Mma Ramotswe looked up at the other woman. The stranger was older than her, but only by a decade or so. She was of traditional build herself, but her figure was largely concealed by the folds of a generously cut shift dress made out of a flecked green fabric. It was like a tent, thought Mma Ramotswe—a camouflage tent of the sort that the Botswana Defence Force might use. But I do not sit in judgement on the dresses of others, she told herself, and a tent was a practical enough garment, if that is what one felt comfortable in.

“I am Mma Ramotswe,” she said. “Would you like to sit down, Mma? There is probably enough tea in the pot if we get the waiter to fetch another cup.”

“Oh, I cannot drink up all your tea, Mma,” said the woman. “But I will sit down. I am Mma Felo.”

Mma Ramotswe inclined her head. She had heard of the name; the Felos had a hotel somewhere, she thought, and quite a few cattle too. They were influential people. “I have heard of your name,” she said. “There is a hotel …”

The woman nodded. “That is us. It is very hard work, though, Mma. Never buy a hotel, Mma Ramotswe, unless you like working day and night.”

“I will not buy one,” said Mma Ramotswe. “I already have a business.”

“Yes,” said Mma Felo. “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. I have driven past your place—and your husband’s garage too.”

Mma Ramotswe wondered where the conversation was going. It was not unusual for people to approach her like this, circumspectly, indirectly, before the request for help was made. Was Mma Felo about to do the same? Mma Ramotswe waited, and then she said, tentatively, “Is there anything I can do to help you, Mma?”

Mma Felo’s reaction was unexpected. She seemed to find this very amusing. “Oh no, Mma! My goodness, I do not need to be seeing detectives! Certainly not!”

Mma Ramotswe smiled. “Well, you never know, Mma. Lots of people seem to need my help. I did not mean to give you a fright.”

Mma Felo assured her that she had neither taken offence nor been frightened. “I do not want anything of you, Mma Ramotswe,” she said. “No, I just thought that I would say hello.”

“That is very kind, Mma.”

Mma Felo nodded. “I try to be a kind person, Mma. I have a lot of money, you know, and I am always giving it away. This cause, that cause. A school needs something. Can you buy it, Mma? This person needs an operation over in South Africa and there is no money. Can you help with the bus fare, Mma? And so on. It is never-ending.” She paused. “And of course there is our friend, Mma Potokwane. I know that you know her, Mma. She has spoken to me about you.”